


vainpires

by amaelamin



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaelamin/pseuds/amaelamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungyeol and Myungsoo are vampires, and they realise they haven't seen their own faces in more than four hundred years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vainpires

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on AFF on 17 sept 2013.

Myungsoo helpfully swiped a thumb over the drop of blood threatening to drip from the corner of Sungyeol’s full mouth, but left a little smudge behind on purpose so he could giggle internally at Sungyeol later for going around with a dirty face. He breathed in a deep sigh contentedly; beautiful girls always tasted the best, but they were usually few and far between. He felt like a blooming flower, for lack of a better analogy; fresh blood instead of pure water running through his veins.

“Think of it like a spa retreat humans go to,” Sungyeol was saying. “If you do it too often it loses its appeal. But a good spa treatment once in a while really hits the spot.”

“You talk as if you’ve been to spas,” Myungsoo asked as they emerged from the shadows of the alley into the hustle of the street, neon billboard lights and noise from the cars whizzing past alongside washing over them. They fell into step with each other naturally; it was something Myungsoo had stopped marveling over a long time ago.

“I may have gone once or twice,” Sungyeol answered, non-committal. “It did wonders for my skin.”

They made their way back to their – well, Myungsoo hated to call it their _lair_ , but Sungyeol did inexplicably like the whole ‘Trrrransylvania’ routine and would have more than likely found a way to get coffins for them to sleep in if Myungsoo hadn’t threatened to file down his canines in his sleep – and Myungsoo couldn’t call it their ‘crib’ because he didn’t feel comfortable using the slang of people nearly four hundred years younger than he was in a rather old-fogey kind of way. Neither was it their house as it was clearly just an abandoned storage basement underneath a condemned 1920s-era building; so Myungsoo referred to it mentally as ‘our place’ and Sungyeol continued to call it their lair, adding at times a ‘muahahaha’ after. Myungsoo wondered on a regular basis why he hadn’t cut Sungyeol’s head off yet.

They both dressed like punks – shaggy hair, black clothes, chunky boots – Myungsoo was pretty sure they were (unintentionally – they’d just really liked the 70s) playing into some teenaged Twilight fantasy of what vampires really looked like and would really hit the jackpot if they could get their hands on some eyeliner somewhere –

“More like ‘The Lost Boys’ than Twilight, I think,” Sungyeol cut in. Myungsoo gave him a Look.

“Firstly, I told you to stop doing that, and secondly, what?”

“It’s a movie. We look more like the vampires in The Lost Boys. And I like reading your mind, you think about the randomest shit. Also, by the way, I don’t mind trying eyeliner-”

“Of course you don’t,” Myungsoo muttered, nudging him to cross the road during a lull in traffic. “Don’t you get curious, though? About what you actually look like now?”

Sungyeol slowed down, eyes thoughtfully on Myungsoo. They did get stares sometimes in public when they straightened each other’s clothes or hair, or rubbed smudges off each other’s faces – they didn’t have reflections so mirrors and other reflective surfaces were useless, and therefore the next best thing was each other. They had both wanted to live in the world – had made that decision together so long ago that they couldn’t even remember exactly when, and the memory of a vampire was long – but they had both come to realise that they didn’t want a life alone, hunting on the outskirts of civilization, always on the outside looking in. Plus, it made for really terrible personal grooming.

“Do you remember your face?” Sungyeol asked, intrigued. “I remember seeing a drawing of me once in the 1700s, in one of those demonology books that were all the rage then.”

“What did you do to get yourself into one of those books? And where was I when this happened?”

“It was during one of our fights. You’d fucked off to Japan and only came back about two years later,” Sungyeol said dismissively. “Anyway, I was making quite a name for myself. Which, I recall, was ‘Angelus’, and now thinking of that drawing, I think it was a nickname well-earned.”

Myungsoo scoffed so loudly that tiny echoes bounced off the walls as they descended the rickety staircase into their basement. “There is _no way_ they called you ‘Angelus’ because of your face.”

“I choose to believe it is so,” Sungyeol answered daintily, sinking down into a sofa they’d managed to score off someone they’d eaten. “Because I was, and will be for eternity, extremely pretty.”

Myungsoo was about to roll his eyes and move past Sungyeol to turn on the television when Sungyeol grabbed Myungsoo’s arm and pulled him down beside Sungyeol on the sofa, Myungsoo having to squeeze up to avoid sitting uncomfortably on Sungyeol’s skinny legs.

“Seriously now. Tell me what I look like. Neither of us can draw, so that’s out. Oh! Maybe we should get our portraits done by some street painter?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen any night buskers around here,” Myungsoo said, settling his chin on his knees. “For a start, your hair is the same as it’s been since you went to that hairdresser forty years ago with a picture of the Ramones. Black, long. You never had the courage to go short, did you?”

“Considering that I’d have to then have short hair for the rest of my foreseeable life, of course not. You’re going to have John Travolta-Grease hair forever now, you realize that, don’t you?”

Myungsoo shrugged. “I like it. Or at least I liked it on Paul Simonon. Anyway, your face… you still kind of have your baby fat. Like in your cheeks. But this haircut makes your cheekbones stand out. And the black of your hair matches the black of your eyes, which are, I dunno. Almond-shaped? Round? Makes your eyes look really dark and mysterious, anyway. And you look really good when you tie your hair up in a ponytail. And your lips get chapped sometimes and your mouth is really big. But you have very nice white teeth. And a lot of gums.”

“Just admit it. I’m pretty.”

Myungsoo ignored him. “What about me?”

“You’re kind of ugly, man. I mean, I guess you’re okay. But you’re definitely not as handsome as me.”

Myungsoo glared.

“I’m serious! You have this freakishly intense gaze and when you look at me with it it’s almost like you’re planning to kill me.”

“Probably because I am.”

“As if you’d ever. And you’ve got this really weirdly perfect face. But not in a handsome way.”

“A perfect face… but not in a handsome way.”

“Yeah. You don’t look real. It’s scary as hell.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. Who actually has a mouth like that? Plus your weird-ass dimples. Dimples are unnatural.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten I had dimples!”

“It’s nothing to celebrate, I’m telling you. I kind of feel sorry for you, man.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Kind of a good thing you can’t see your face, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I suffer every time I see it, I can tell you.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. Hits me right here,” Sungyeol emphasized, thumping his chest. “Cold sweat, everything.”

“Yeol, where did we keep the stakes? The ones if we ever have to get territorial with some other vamps?”

“Oh, over there in that drawer. The middle one. So, like I was saying – hey, what are you doing with that HEY!-”

Myungsoo hovered an inch from Sungyeol’s face, stake pressing ever so insistently into the pale skin over Sungyeol’s heart. “I think you were telling me how perfect my face was.”

“The most perfect of all faces. Absolutely. Too beautiful for words.”

“That’s more like it.”

Sungyeol grinned cheesily up at him and Myungsoo allowed himself an internal giggle at the messy smudge of dried blood at the corner of Sungyeol’s mouth.


End file.
